Page 52 of Iron Heart

And eventually, they do.

They don’t go away for a long time.

21

Dante

Goddamnit. Jesus motherfucking Christ son of a bitch fuck shit fucking goddamnshit!

I tear out of Tori’s street on my bike, scaring the hell out of a high school kid who’s turning the corner in his parents’ minivan.

Fuck!

I’m sofuckingangry right now. And something else, too. I can still see Tori’s grayish face as she fought for air — bent over and wide-eyed, waiting for her heart to slow down.

Why the fuck didn’t she tell me about her goddamn heart? Why the fuck didn’t she tell me I could have hurt her, or killed her?

My own heart is pounding like a goddamn piston, so hard I bet you could see it just by looking at my chest. It’s pumping adrenaline and fury through my whole body. Without even noticing, I accelerate to almost sixty miles an hour in the city streets. I back off the throttle, fist clenched so tight around it my knuckles ache.

I’m not a man who spends a lot of time feeling helpless. But goddamn if I didn’t feel helpless as fuck watching Tori struggle. The last time I felt anything like that, it was right before my ma died.

My stomach clenches as I remember seeing my mother in the hospital, barely more than a skeleton. How useless I felt. And how fucking angry at the world. And especially at fuckin’ Dom, for not being there at the end. For making Ma ask over and over whether he was coming.

I don’t know why Tori’s attack makes me think of Ma’s death.

It’s probably a good thing I left Tori’s place when I did. Partly because as soon as I realized she was gonna be okay, I wanted to wring her goddamn stubborn neck.

But also because even now, I realize I overreacted pretty hard back there.

Not because she wasn’t in danger. I mean, she definitely was.

But because I don’t know why I fucking lost it the way I did.

After all, the last thing I wanna do is give her the impression what’s been happening between us is more than it is.

It’s just two people who have a thing for each other. Scratching an itch.

No more than that.

Sure, I give a shit that there’s something wrong with her heart. Last thing I need is to put her in the hospital or something, and have that shit on my conscience.

In spite of everything, my mind flashes to the way she arched her back and moaned my name as she came. My dick starts to get hard — even as I fucking shout at myself to stop thinking about her like that.

Jesus Christ, this is some crazy shit.

I could have killed her. And it would have been her crazy ass’s fault for not telling me about her bum ticker. But it would have been me who killed her just the same.

How the hell would I ever live with myself after that? I’d probably never go near another woman again.

And more than just the guilt. I would miss her crazy ass.

Okay, goddamnit. I’d miss her a lot. It’s been one thing trying to avoid her these past few days, since the first night we spent together. It’s been damn near torture, not seeing her. But fuck, at least I knew she was out there, somewhere. Having her just…gone, though?

I feel sick to my stomach at the thought. My gut wrenches painfully.

Fuck. This isn’t good. Maybe I should be glad this happened when it did. Maybe this is a wake-up call for me. A sign that I’m getting too attached to her. It’s time to move on. I’m done with her damn electrical project, anyway.

Tori’s over. That shit is in my rear-view mirror.